The Writing Retreat(86)

At seven that night, Taylor and Yana appeared.

“Good evening, ladies,” Taylor crooned in a low voice as Yana passed a tray through the door.

“Why are there only three plates?” Keira’s fingers remained over her keyboard, like a pianist waiting to begin. “Is this another fun game Roza wants us to play?”

“Actually,” Taylor smugly replied, “it’s the opposite. You’ve all been so diligent that Roza decided to restart one-on-one meetings. One of you will get to eat upstairs with her.”

Wren and I glanced at each other wide-eyed, sharing the same thought.

The cell door would be opening. This was our chance to get away.

“Hmm.” Taylor studied us. “Who should it be?”

I knew we all felt it: a desperation to get out of this confined space, to see something beyond concrete walls, to smell air not tinged with human waste.

“Zoe.” Taylor grinned at her. “Roza likes your new work. Come on up.”

“Sure.” Zoe rose slowly, gripping her laptop.

“Leave your computer.” Taylor pulled something out of her back pocket: handcuffs. “Come to the doorway and turn around. Everyone else: Stay by the wall.”

I stared at Wren, realizing the limits of our psychic connection. What was the plan? Should we rush the door? If so, before or after Zoe was handcuffed? I could smell the fear on me, a sudden, sharp onion-like scent.

“Hurry up.” Taylor sounded annoyed. “Or I’ll pick someone else.”

Zoe went to the door and turned as requested. She raised her eyebrows and mouthed: “Now.”

Keira’s body tensed next to mine.

It was time.

But then Taylor passed the handcuffs to Yana and pulled something out of the back waistband of her jeans.

It was black, sharp-edged. It looked familiar, a handgun I’d seen in countless shows and movies. Funny how I’d never considered it before—the sleek lines, the dull shine. But even as I studied it, a suspicion arose.

Could it be fake?

Keira exhaled. She shook her head, almost imperceptibly. The plan was off.

“All right.” Taylor nodded at Yana. “No fucking around, ladies. Stay by the wall.”

Yana raised her hand to the keypad. I counted six beeps. Something released and the door swung outward.

But then Zoe whirled around.

Wren’s fall off the bar steps, the most horrifying moment of my life, had unfurled in slow motion. But this happened much too fast. All of a sudden Zoe was gripping Taylor’s wrists, pointing the gun down at the floor. Keira launched herself towards them even as Yana froze. Then Yana grabbed at Keira, but Wren was now there, too, crouching and grabbing Yana’s legs and sending her crashing to the floor.

How had they all moved so quickly? Shouts and grunts filled the air, and somehow over the din I could hear my own heaving breaths.

Move. But it felt like pushing through sludge to stand. I watched the violence like a play: Wren tussling with Yana on the ground, Zoe shaking Taylor’s wrists to get her to drop the gun, Keira trying to pull Taylor into a headlock from behind.

One question kept repeating, like a running news ticker below the action:

Is this actually real?

“Alex!” Zoe shouted. But still I hesitated. Was the gun fake? Was Zoe acting? They’d tricked Wren, but would they trick me also?

Wren screamed. Yana had raked sharp nails across her face and now rivulets of blood ran down her cheek.

I stared at the smeared red. This was proof.

This was real.

I ran to the others, feeling clumsy and sluggish. I tried to block Yana, who’d left Wren howling on the ground, and I too grasped at Taylor’s arms. Taylor’s face was locked in a grim rictus, and it was red from Keira’s grip around her neck. Together, Zoe and I twisted and shook Taylor’s wrists and slowly her fingers began to unclamp. Zoe released one hand in order to grab for the butt of the gun. For a second it looked like she’d succeeded in taking it from Taylor and I glanced up at her in triumph.

But then Taylor managed to grasp the gun again, her arm moving swiftly upwards.

Zoe opened her mouth in a scream just as the gun exploded with a deafening BOOM.

Her brown eyes widened, warm and glowing in the fluorescent lights. Her lips made a ring as she flew backwards and crumpled to the floor.

“No!” Keira cried, releasing Taylor to run towards her. Wren was suddenly standing next to me, a hand clamped to her bleeding face. We stood there frozen, watching as Keira pressed her palms against Zoe’s chest. The blood flowed out like a fountain, and though Zoe’s lips moved, nothing came out.

For a few seconds, the only sounds were Zoe’s gurgling gasps and Keira’s encouraging words: “You’re okay. Come on, you’re okay.” Keira looked up at us. “Help! We need help! Please!” Her face was shiny with tears.

I remained still, feeling nauseous from the metallic scent that filled the small space.

Taylor replied, but the words didn’t penetrate until she repeated it more loudly. “I said, you guys have to get into the cell.”

None of us moved. Then the safety clicked.

She trained the gun on Keira. “Now, Keira.”

My awareness expanded. From my peripheral vision I saw Yana standing behind us, both hands pressed to her mouth.

Keira just gazed at Taylor. She wiped at her nose, leaving a streak of blood, and let out a sob. “Please, Taylor. We need help. We need an ambulance.”